


The enigma that is G. Callen

by TimeToRemember



Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, Gen, Interrogation, Mad Driving, Pizza, Protectiveness, Secrets, Snark, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToRemember/pseuds/TimeToRemember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callen went off the radar for an entire month. Now he's waltzed back into civilisation as if nothing ever happened, and everyone is still trying to figure out what did. (Because something had to - this is Callen we're talking about. He might have a chronic case of Lone Wolf syndrome, but he's not actually unhinged.)</p><p>Unfortunately for them, Callen is still Callen, and has more trust issues than a neglected cat.</p><p>Then again, they're his family. They're what make him weak <i>and</i> what make him strong and they're just trying to show how much they care.</p><p>And Callen might just be beginning to get that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Callen.”  
Director Vance’s voice cut through the hubbub with distinctive ease, inducing an abrupt, uneasy silence. As one, almost every head in the bullpen swivelled around to watch the Director descend the stairs. Seemingly oblivious, he continued to speak. “I have fifty agents looking for you in ten different states. I’ve posted traces on your cell phones and your car. We’ve had tips that you’re in Mexico, Hawaii, even New York. So how have you managed to evade every single one for no less than a month?”  
The heads turned back to the previous object of their scrutiny.

Special Agent G Callen shrugged, a move that completely disregarded the two rather nervous NCIS agents flanking him. The agents in question intended to handcuff him, but couldn’t quite summon the nerve to do it. After all, standing between them was, essentially, a living legend.  
“Well, you know me, sir,” Callen finally replied, amusement lacing his tone. “I like a challenge.”

Before Vance could reply, Gibbs stepped forward, out of the section of the crowd that was comprised exclusively of his own team. “Director, give him to us,” he called out, his gruff tone modified slightly to sound almost polite, “I’d like to be the first to interrogate him.” Vance did well in hiding his surprise – not at the request but at Gibbs’ attempt to be conciliatory – and merely nodded, moving immediately to forestall the also-present Fornell’s almost immediate objection.  
“Agent Callen,” he started, turning to the FBI Agent, “is under the employment of NCIS. Thus, this investigation is under our jurisdiction. We will be more than happy to collaborate with you.” That said, he turned away, and went striding back up the stairs and into his office.  
“SecNav or Hetty?” Callen asked conversationally, directing his words at the Agent to his left. When all he received in return was a blank stare, he rolled his eyes and turned to face the rapidly approaching Gibbs. 

Instead of speaking to him, Gibbs dismissed both Agents with a shake of his head, and then cuffed Callen himself. Placing a hand on Callen’s shoulder, he directed him out of the rapidly emptying bullpen towards the interrogation rooms.  
Gibbs didn’t say a word for the entirety of the short trip, so Callen occupied himself by whistling quietly. When they reached the first interrogation room, another agent opened the door for the two men. Stepping inside, Callen waited until he heard the door close before he moved across the room and sat down as directed.  
Gibbs removed the cuffs, but before Callen could bring his hands up to sit more comfortably, Gibbs pulled his arms back, one at a time, behind him. Confused, he half-turned, and stared down in disbelief as Gibbs finished locking his wrists to the chair. 

"That can't be standard operating procedure."  
Gibbs didn’t react.  
“You’re really going to interrogate me. Unbelievable.”  
“I didn’t bring you in here for pizza.”  
After a meaningful pause, Callen looked away from bright blue, concerned eyes.

“Vance has contacted Miss Lang. Your team are now on a flight here.” Gibbs’ intent blue eyes catalogued Callen’s minute twitch at the word ‘your,’ and filed it away for later usage. “What’s going on, Callen?” he asked, leaning forward on his chair. “Why are you running?”  
“What makes you think I’m running?” Callen returned, cool as ever. “Maybe I just fancied a vacation.”  
Gibbs nodded. “Yeah. Except, you’ve taken...” he paused, and flipped open the file he’d carried in with him. Callen recognised it as his own as Gibbs perused the page briefly. “Only about the equivalent of a week’s vacation, in three years of working for NCIS.”  
Callen smiled. “What can I say: I like my job.”  
Gibbs almost sighed; held it in by force of will. “Callen, we want to help. You went ghost, no one’s had any idea where you’ve been for the last month, and then suddenly you turn up in DC and let yourself get arrested.” Gibbs’ tone had changed rapidly from default gruffness to something that was almost gentle, definitely concerned.  
“ _Let_ myself get arrested?” Callen was openly smirking now.  
Gibbs didn’t bother to reply to that. Leaning forwards, he waited until Callen’s gaze met his own. “When you’re ready to talk, give me a call.” He gestured behind him. “I’ll be outside.” Standing up, he deliberately left Callen’s file behind as he exited the room, pulling the door closed.  
Callen sank down further on the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position.

~

“Where is he?” Sam Hanna’s voice may have boomed through the bullpen in a way that promised trouble if he was not immediately provided with an answer, but Gibbs couldn’t have been happier to see the other agent. After several hours of staring at the exasperatingly stubborn man still ensconced in the interrogation room, and several more making absolutely no head-way on _why_ this whole sorry mess had occured, Gibbs had been feeling the strain: he hoped that Sam’s presence might persuade Callen to open up.  
He came striding forwards from his desk to greet the newly arrived NCIS: Los Angeles team, who were, unsurprisingly, led by the diminutive Henrietta Lang.  
Before he could speak, Sam cut him off. With anyone else, Gibbs would have instantly bristled, but the mingled concern and frustration was rolling off the other man in waves. “I want to see him.”  
Gibbs didn’t reply; he just nodded. 

Sam entered the small room with little ceremony, barely giving the rest of the team enough time to get into the observation room. Callen’s head jerked up as the door opened – he’d been essentially sleeping on the table – and Sam saw and noted the slight flicker of wariness that he was very familiar with.  
“You went lone wolf on us, G. Again.” Sam sounded calm, but Callen could clearly hear anger simmering just beneath the surface.  
“Some things,” Callen replied, “I have to do by myself.”  
His calm reply got a rather unexpected (at least for him) reaction. “No, you don’t, G! I’m your partner, and I’ve always got your back. Whatever happens. You know that. So _why_ do you keep doing this?”  
Now Callen was angry. “I had to, Sam. I had something I needed to do, and I had to leave to do it. What I did could very well have just saved your life.”

Sam stared at him, rendered silent by Callen’s involuntary slip, the rarely-seen loss of control. For his part, Callen glared back.  
“Talk to us, G,” Sam whispered. “We want to help you.”  
Callen laid his head back down on the desk, closing his eyes.  
Sam left.

~

“Mr Callen.” Operations Director Henrietta Lang had barely slept in the last month, spending her nights making phone-calls and following every possible lead in order to identify Callen’s whereabouts. Despite averaging only two hours of sleep every night, she sounded as calm, as unruffled, and as entirely in control as ever.  
That time he had been asleep. 

Callen blinked several times, lifting his head up off the desk. When his newest interrogator came into view, however, he couldn’t help but groan. “I feel like I’ve inadvertently walked in on a speed dating game. Who’s next, Kensi or Deeks?”  
“I hope you’re more convincing when you are working, Mr Callen. This false bravado is entirely unnecessary, and, I believe, tiring even for you produce in front of your friends for such a prolonged period of time. Am I wrong?”  
The silence she got in reply was more than sufficient confirmation.  
“Your team is worried about you.” Hetty sounded softer, gentler this time.  
Callen closed his eyes. 

“They want to help you; Mr Hanna especially. I suggest you let them.” Satisfied that she had said all that was necessary, Hetty left the room.  
Callen returned his head to the table.

~

“What now?” Sam was the first to break the silence in the observation room, but his eyes never left Callen’s hunched form.  
Gibbs smiled. “Now we have a case.”  
There was no need for any further discussion. The two teams, joined together to protect one of their own, split from the room, each to follow their own leads and find out what they could. Later, there might be time for worry; now they were all business.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, more commonly known as Tony, knocked a couple of times on the door to the interrogation room, then simply waltzed inside just as Callen had pushed himself up again.  
“Time to move,” he said cheerfully, unlocking the cuffs on Callen’s wrists. He gave the other agent a moment to ease out the stiffness and stand up, and then he took him by the arm and led him down the corridor towards the holding cells. 

Minutes later, Callen was comfortably – so to speak – situated in the first cell, and Tony had left to join the rest of his team.  
“And now the fun really begins,” Callen murmured, stretching out on the bed. 

~

The comfortable silence of the empty corridor was broken an hour later by the sound of footsteps. Callen woke immediately from a restless sleep: it was difficult to break a habit formed over long years. Glancing down the corridor, he relaxed back onto the bed when he recognised the familiar form of Gibbs, plus the always-welcome, if unexpected, sight of a box of pizza.  
Reaching Callen’s cell, Gibbs eased himself down so he was leaning semi-comfortably against the bars, the pizza at his side.  
Callen waited, but he didn’t say anything.  
Long minutes passed.

“You’re going to break me with pizza?” Callen sounded incredulous.  
Gibbs didn’t speak, didn’t even move.  
Callen huffed out an impatient sigh, and stood, and took the two steps over to the bars. Mimicking Gibbs, he leaned back against his side of the cell, to Gibbs’ left. 

“You ready to talk?” Gibbs had turned his head, and cold blue eyes met Callen’s own with an intensity that was unsurprising in its power.  
Callen held his gaze for a minute before he gave in, dropping his eyes to the pizza. The head-slap was entirely unexpected, and he jerked around in shock, staring at Gibbs in disbelief. Marshalling himself with some effort, he spoke in his normal unconcerned tone. “What happened to bribery?”

Gibbs shrugged. “You gonna talk to me now?”  
Callen sighed, visibly frustrated. “It’s not as easy as that. I’m not being stubborn,” Gibbs made a disbelieving sound, “I just can’t tell you. I can’t get NCIS involved.” He looked up, then, meeting Gibbs’ gaze. “Don’t push this.”  
Gibbs picked up the box of pizza, sliding it through the bars. Callen took it automatically, then watched, confused, as Gibbs left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two new leads come out of the woodwork, and the two teams begin to investigate. Callen is naturally proving to be more troublesome than ever, and it's beginning to look like an impossible task.
> 
> But Gibbs never gives up.
> 
> The problem is, neither does Callen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not all that impressed with this chapter, so let me know what you think. As a warning, it may be replaced later on.

“Morning!”

Callen opened his eyes, then immediately wished he hadn’t. A Gibbs exhibiting signs of actually being chipper was standing just outside of his new home, dressed in combat gear with the standard NCIS-issue vest, gun holstered at his side.

Callen cheerfully pretended that Gibbs wasn’t actually _grinning_ at him and quickly recovered with: “What, no breakfast?” 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a glimmer of amusement in those bright blue eyes. But Gibbs refused to rise to the bait, and instead settled for: “Time to go.”

Callen blinked. “Go? We take special agent outings, now?”

Gibbs rolled his eyes, then gestured a trifle impatiently at the agent who was hovering behind him to unlock the cell. The agent did so with more than a little wariness, casting Callen a distrustful look as he yanked the door open. Callen tried to look unthreatening, but he didn’t seem convinced. He stepped away as soon as Callen was out, and Gibbs stepped forwards, cuffs in hand. Suppressing a sigh, Callen lifted his wrists into place. 

 

A little later, when they were walking back through NCIS HQ to the bullpen, Callen inevitably broke the silence again. “So, where are we going, if it’s not the zoo?”

“We’re following a lead,” Gibbs replied shortly. Callen wasn’t offended – he’d much rather Gibbs was his default gruff self than as frighteningly chipper and witheringly sarcastic as he was with his suspects – and his curiosity was immediately roused. 

“You have a case?” 

Gibbs glanced at him briefly. “Yeah. Your case.”

Callen blinked again. Really, it was becoming quite a habit. A bit like his habit of taking his gun apart and putting it back together at least seven times every night. Albeit with a little less potential for destruction. “You’re investigating _me_?”

Gibbs cast him a withering glance that told Callen exactly what Gibbs thought of his mental processes (and it wasn't flattering), and didn’t bother to reply. 

 

The cuffs were removed, and he was given the standard vest and an earpiece for the coming situation. He was not, to his chagrin, given a weapon, and he was informed that if he didn’t remain where he was told to for the entire time, Gibbs would invest in a leash. 

There were so many things that Callen could say in reply to all of that, but he didn’t say any of them. Instead, he merely nodded, eyes blank, expression unreadable. He’d dragged the walls back up, and only the prospect of getting something out of this lead stopped Gibbs from falling into the black abyss of utter despair. Most suspects broke after a short stint in interrogation: Callen was still going strong an entire day later.

The two teams would be working together on this new lead. Gibbs’s team, with the addition of a reluctant Callen, were heading to a particular house to speak with a man who’d sent no less than five emails last night alone to an address used by one of Callen’s many aliases, and the NCIS: LA team, now led by Sam, would be travelling in the opposite direction to speak to a woman whom had contacted them earlier in the morning, claiming she had information. No one was particularly convinced that said woman actually knew anything – they’d been receiving false reports all month – but it had to be investigated. 

 

Ten minutes into the trip, Gibbs was already regretting his decision to bring Callen along. It had been against protocol to do so anyway, but Vance had okay-ed it because Gibbs had hoped that the longer he spent with their unpredictable agent, the more he could get out of him. It wasn’t working.

“Are we there yet?” It was the tenth time that Callen had asked the question in – wait for it – the last ten minutes. Without fail, every time another minute clicked over, the question would emerge, in Callen’s uncaring drawled tone. And every time, without fail, Gibb’s gloved hands would tighten on the wheel and he would consider, in many varied and graphic ways, how he could kill Callen and dispose of the body. In his various imaginings, the only problem he had come up with so far was Abby – the forensic specialist was almost impossible to trick.

And so Gibbs had channeled these violent impulses into his driving, blitzing straight past the speed limits, turning corners almost on two wheels, and overtaking at every opportunity, cutting back in barely a hairsbreadth from other cars. But Callen had merely settled himself comfortably against the door to fight the constant jolting, smiled brightly in his direction, and professed that he was “enjoying the ride.” 

Then the Satnav McGee had installed into his car despite his fervent objections beeped, and Gibbs could have kissed the tiny device with relief as it informed him that he was arriving at his destination. He pulled up in the street – parking illegally – and moments later the other half of the team arrived behind him. It was unusual for them all to turn up like this, but police reports had spoken of a considerable amount of disturbance in the area the night before, and this case was too sensitive for Gibbs to take chances. 

Callen was left in the car – fuming silently – as Gibbs and Tony approached the front door. Ziva and McGee circled around the house, flanking it to wait for the signal. 

No one answered. There was no sign of a break-in, but lights were on, and the car was still in the garage. Gibbs peered in through the gap between the curtains, but couldn’t see anything suspicious. They waited. 

Then a scream and a thud sounded from inside the bungalow, followed by a crash that sounded a lot like glass smashing. Both agents readied the weapons and prepared to circle the house, then Ziva called out that she’d seen him, and that both her and McGee were pursuing. With that end of the equation covered, Gibbs kicked the door in and entered the house, Tony behind him. 

All was silent but for the soft buzzing of the fridge, but it was a silence that prickled on the back of Gibbs’s neck, making him uneasy. The two agents crept from room to room, the occasional calls of “Clear” briefly breaching the silence. Gibbs finished in the master bedroom, and found what he had expected: A broken window, a hell of a lot of blood, and a John Doe: their lead. Entering behind him, Tony snapped on gloves, stepped forwards carefully, and slid a wallet out of the man’s pocket. Flipping it open, he studied the ID. The John Doe was a Raymond Smith, owner of the property and source of the five emails sent to Callen the previous night. 

Frustration came bubbling up as Tony put the call through back to HQ, asking for forensics and Ducky, and then the local PD to inform them of the find so they could block off the scene. Just as Tony had finished making the calls, Ziva’s voice sounded through the earpiece. “Lost him. Sorry, Gibbs.”

When the local PD and a bunch of other vans arrived, one clearly marked as forensics, Callen decided he’d had enough of sitting around waiting. Popping the door open, he hopped out and jogged over to Gibbs as he exited the house. As expected, he received a brutally quelling look that had utterly no effect. “What did you find?”

Gibbs studied him mutely, and then shook his head. “I told you to stay in the car.”

“Yeah, and I’m not five,” Callen replied, an unusual level of heat lacing his words.

Suddenly interested, Gibbs’s expression lightened a little. “He’s dead,” he said bluntly, jerking his head in the direction of the bungalow.

Shock, pain and grief flitted across Callen’s face in a flurry of uncontrolled emotion, and then the mask was back. But for a moment Gibbs had seen through it, and the sudden wariness in Callen’s eyes told the older agent that he knew he had. Then Callen was striding away and into the bungalow, clearly set on examining the scene for himself. Gibbs let him go as a self-important figure from the local PD came marching up, waving his credentials around. 

 

An hour later, they finally managed to leave. Forensics had done their job, and Ducky had secured the body through a combination of his own stubbornness and the intervention of Director Vance, and the NCIS team chose that moment to depart. Gibbs’s car was silent for the duration of the journey back to HQ, and it wasn’t long before Gibbs was longing for the annoying questions of the previous journey, just for some sign that Callen was even there. 

Callen was staring straight through the windscreen, hands twisted together in his lap, eyes intent, and his expression blank. His mask was up and tighter than ever, and Gibbs knew in a sudden burst of clarity that they were not going to break the case through Callen. They remained in silence for the entirety of the journey, Gibbs stuck for words and Callen somewhat disinclined. 

With no idea as to what else he could do, Gibbs sent Callen back to his cell, and then gathered the team together to work on their next move. They had yet to hear back from the LA team, but they’d had further to travel. 

Ten minutes later, Gibbs took a pizza to Callen.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come yell at me on tumblr.](http://thehatofthehatter.tumblr.com/)


End file.
